


10 Things I Hate About Bucky Barnes

by kauliberry



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Eventual Smut, F/M, Inspired by 10 Things I Hate About You (1999), Misogyny, Oral Sex, Romantic Comedy, Shower Sex, Smut, Texting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:40:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27003682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kauliberry/pseuds/kauliberry
Summary: A College AU based off the move 10 Things I Hate About You----You and your younger sister, Zoe, attend Columbia University together. Even though both of you are in college, your strict father refuses to allow Zoe to date anyone until you start dating. The new transfer student, Steve, sets his sights on Zoe the moment he sees her. He enlists the help of the rugged and mysterious, Bucky. He pays Bucky to take you out on dates, in order for Steve to have a shot at Zoe himself.----I DO NOT OWN ANY 10TIHAY CHARACTERS OR MARVEL CHARACTERSWarnings of explicit language and mature themes, including explicit sexual content.cross posted to WattpadON INDEFINITE HIATUS
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	1. Welcome to Columbia University

Welcome to Columbia University, your typical private college that tauts exceptionalism and success. The 95% graduation rate helps that mission statement. Settled just off the shore of the Hudson River it is your very stereotypical Ivy League. Pretentious, uptight, and over-priced.

**Y/N L/N -- twenty-one, senior double majoring in Literature and Political Science with a minor in Human Rights. Pretty, but trying hard not to be, wears navy high waisted cargo pants, a black zip up hoodie, and a choker decorating your neck.**

You step out of your old battered, crimson '75 Dodge Dart. Your hair swinging in your ponytail as you try to balance your coffee while you sling your backpack, slightly unzipped, over your shoulder.

Suddenly, a stray skateboard clips your ankle causing you to stumble, spilling your coffee all over your pants and your black Doc Martens. You swear as you watch the backpack hastily thrown over your shoulder slip and the contents spill out onto the sidewalk.

A boy with brown curly hair and soft brown eyes rushes over to assist you but he quickly begins trembling as he looks up and realizes _who_ his board hit.

"Hey- I am so sorry!"

Cowering in fear, he attempts to scoop up the scattered belongings.

"Leave it." You say mildly annoyed. The irritation settling into your voice.

But the boy persists anyway, trying to stack the scattered papers before the wind can blow them away.

Your agitation and quick temper reaches its peak as your voice raises. "I said, leave it!"

You grab the skateboard and use it to shove him against another vehicle. The tip of the skateboard touched lightly against his throat. His eyes quiver in fear and he whimpers like a hurt puppy, his soft dough eyes watering.

You let him go, as a path in the quad clears. You march through, noticing the whispers and stares that surround you and the commotion you caused. You reach the steps of the building, taking them quickly, not daring to remove your eyes from the doors and give attention to the students around you. The door flies open and you step through, on your way to the first class of the day.

**\------**

**Zoe L/N, 19, your younger sister and bane of your existence. A beautiful sophomore majoring in Education, stands facing the mirror, applying lipstick. Her less extraordinary, but still cute friend, Wanda, also an education major, stands next to her.**

Zoe looks through the mirror toward her friend, "Did you change your hair?"

Wanda responds, slightly hesitant and curious. "No."

"You might wanna think about it."

Zoe readjusts the polished curls of her hair and deposits her lipstick into her purse. Her and Wanda leave the bathroom, entering the hallway.

A row of boys and girls alike, standing around the door to a classroom immediately greet Zoe and Wanda with admiration.

One boy shouts, "Hey, Zoe!" Another girl quickly adds "I love your dress!"

As the two girls walk to their class, the greetings continue and Wanda remains wordless and unaddressed by Zoe's side. Meanwhile, Zoe proudly flips her hair, a large smile on her face as she acknowledges the other students with winks and waves.

**\------**

**Steve Rogers, 22, a clean-cut, easy-going senior with bright blue eyes. An Art History major and recent transfer to Columbia. A light blue button up and khakis compliments his All-American boy look, sits facing Mrs Potts, an impossibly cheery dean of students.**

Her fake smile, plastered on as if it's plastic, never leaves her face as she addresses the student. "I'm sure you won't find Columbia any different than your old school. Same little asswipe mother-fuckers everywhere."

Steve fidgets in his chair, uncomfortable with the situation and crude language.

Mrs Potts continues, "any questions?"

"I don't think so, ma'am."

"Then go forth." She motions with her hands, dismissing him. "Scoot, I've got deviants to see."

As Steve rises to leave he makes eye contact with the dark looming figure in the doorway. Mrs Potts' voice let's him know the name of this mysterious student.

"James Barnes, I see we're making our visits a weekly ritual."

**James Buchanan Barnes -- 22, aka Bucky, a sullen and brooding senior majoring in Linguistics, dresses in a white V-Neck tee that hugs his muscles and dark ripped jeans. The black leather jacket hides his metal arm from sight. He slouches and smirks at Steve as he passes him.**

Mrs Potts gives him a withering glance. He answers with a disarmingly charming smile.

"What can I say, I missed you."

She deadpans the rugged senior, "It says here," she glances down to the file on her desk, "you exposed yourself to a group of people that were protesting on the campus."

Bucky chuckles, the vibrations of his laughter filling the room. "It was a bratwurst. I was eating lunch."

The blonde dean quivers an eyebrow at the man, "With the teeth of your zipper?"

She motions for Bucky to enter her office and Steve shuffles out the door, bumping into another student on his way out.

**Sam Wilson -- 21, a brainy senior, pursuing a degree in sustainable development, who will either end up a politician or game show host**

Sam greets Steve as they walk out of the office together.

"You the new guy?"

Steve replies with a sigh, "so they tell me..."

Sam smiles widely patting Steve on the back. "Well then, c'mon. I'm supposed to give you the tour."

They reach the doors of the building, entering the quad as they continue to talk.

Sam asks, "So, where are you from?"

"Brooklyn."

"Explains the accent. So, why did you end up here for your senior year if you're from New York anyway?"

Steve fills Sam in on his transfer to the new university. Explaining how his previous school had dropped his major from the program halfway through his junior year and was stuck pursuing a degree he didn't want before he made the transfer to Columbia to continue his studies in art history.

Steve's eyes look around at the bustling campus. "How many people go here anyway?"

"Couple thousand. Most of them are evil."

As the pair continue walking, Steve notices the colorful chalk writings on the sidewalk. "What are these?"

"Oh, _that_ is a way the campus clubs advertise. Are you thinking about joining any?"

Steve shrugs. Sam smiles and begins leading him over to a round bulletin littered with colorful posters. Sam begins pointing to various posters.

"This one is for your basic beautiful people. Unless they talk to you first, don't bother."

He points to a poster of Clint Eastwood on a horse. "Those're your cowboys."

"How does that work in the city?"

"These guys have never seen a horse. They just jack off to Clint Eastwood."

Sam points to a "Canvas and Coffee" poster. "We have the Coffee Kids. Very edgy. Don't make any sudden movements around them."

Steve stops listening to Sam as a girl flutters past. Time moves in slow motion as her long curled hair perfectly bristles in the wind. Her sundress with cherries and her matching red lipstick draws his attention and gravity shifts, centering around her. Pure and perfect, she passes Steve and Sam without even a glance.

Steve stumbles over his words. "That girl- I-"

Sam sighs, slapping Steve on the back. "You burn, you pine, you perish?" He places emphasis on each word.

"Who is she?" Steve watches her in admonishment.

"Zoe L/N. Sophomore. Don't even think about it." Sam says sternly.

Steve arches an eyebrow. "Why not?"

Sam chuckles looking at Steve. "I could start with your haircut, but it doesn't matter. Everybody knows the L/N sisters _don't_ date."

**\------**

A room full of bored freshman doodle and stare off into space. You, being one of three seniors in the class since you neglected to take your freshman year find yourself irritated and severely decaffeinated because of your morning run in.

Mr Rhodes voice cuts off your trail of mourning over your lost coffee

"Well, then. I guess that does it for our analysis of The Old Man and the Sea. Any other comments?" The man hesitates before he sees one hand still raised. He sighs with dread in his voice, "Y/N?"

You sit in your seat, your voice sounding bored. "Why didn't we just read the Hardy Boys?"

Mr Rhodes rolls his eyes. "I'm sorry?"

"This book is about a guy and his fishing habit." You shrug your shoulders, trying to feign nonchalance. "Not exactly a crucial topic."

One girl in the front raises her hand. Her blonde pigtails make you want to take scissors and cut them off.

"I loved it. He's so romantic." The girl sighs placing her hand on her chin.

You scoff at her comment. "Romantic? Hemingway?"

The other students roll their eyes.

You continue your thoughts, out loud. "Frankly, I'm baffled as to why we still revere Hemingway. He was an abusive, alcoholic misogynist who had a lot of cats. He squandered away everything in pursuit of nailing down something unattainable."

**Brock Rumlow -- 21, a well-muscled jock, majoring in economics, with great cheekbones, a square jaw, and dark hair. One of the other seniors in the class.**

Brock leans back in his desk, addressing you. "As opposed to a bitter self-righteous hag who has no friends?"

A few giggles are heard in the classroom, you elect to ignore him, a practiced gesture at this point in your college life.

Mr Rhodes cuts off the giggles, "Pipe down, Mr. Rumlow!"

You find yourself seething by this point. "I guess the department thinks because Hemingway's male and an asshole, he's worthy of our time."

Mr. Rhodes' silence lends you the invitation to continue. "What about Colette? Charlotte Bronte? Simone de Beauvoir?"

Brock continues lounging in his seat in the back row. He elects to look up at you again, a smirk on his face. "Mother Goose?"

The class titters. You wear an expression of intolerance at the misogyny and display of typical alpha male dominance.

The door abruptly opens to reveal the third senior. Late, as usual. Bucky drawls in his Brooklyn accent, a half quirked smile on his face. "What did I miss?"

You turn to the interruption. "The oppressive patriarchal values that dictate our education."

Bucky sighs, breathless a smile still lingering his face. He regards you. "Okay." He turns around and walks back out the door.

Mr. Rhodes shouts at Bucky's back. "Hey! Hey!"

Brock interrupts the shouting. "Mr. Rhodes, is there any way we can get Y/N to take her midol before she comes to class?" He finishes with a smile as you turn to glare at him, your arms crossed around your chest.

Mr Rhodes leans forward addressing Brock. "Someday you're gonna get bitch slapped. And I'm not going to do a thing to stop it."

The smug grin slowly fades off Brock's face.

"And Y/N, I want to thank you for your point of view." You raise your head, a smug grin spreading across your face in proud defiance.

Mr Rhodes continues, "I know how difficult it must've been for you to overcome all those years of upper-middle class suburban oppression." His voice lowers and drips with sarcasm as he continues. "It must be tough."

He walks from behind the podium, his voice rising as he approaches you.

"But the next time you go over my head and storm into the department, crusading for better chairs or whatever it is you complain about," he places both hands on your desk leaning into you. "Ask them _why_ they can't buy a book written by a black man."

You sigh, "anything else?"

Mr Rhodes gestures to the door, "Yeah, go schedule an appointment with the Dean of Students, you're pissing me off."

Your head shakes and brows furrow. "What? Mr. Rhodes-"

He turns back to you, brows raised, his voice high pitched. "Later!"

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your mouth hangs agape. You grab your bag and stuff your papers and laptop into it. On your way to the door, you swing your bag hitting Brock in the face as you continue walking out of the classroom.

**\------**

You sit in the Dean's office, greeted by the perky blonde.

"Y/N L/N. You've been terrorizing Mr. Rhodes... again."

"Expressing my opinion is not a terrorist action."

Mrs. Potts looks up from her computer. "Well, yes, compared to your other choices of expression this year, today's events are quite mild. By the way, Peter Quill's gonad retrieval operation went quite well, in case you're interested."

You smile deviously at the blonde as she observes you. "I still maintain that he kicked himself in the balls. I was merely a spectator."

Mrs. Potts sighs, "The point is Y/N... people perceive you as somewhat..." You smile at her, daring her to say it. "Tempestuous?"

"No... I believe 'heinous bitch' is the term used most often." She grimaces, as if she's referring to a medical condition. "You might want to work on that."

You rise from your chair with a plastic smile matching the Dean's. "As always, thank you for your excellent guidance."

**\------**

Meanwhile, in another room Zoe and Wanda sit barely listening to Ms. Danvers drone on about Shakespeare.

Ms. Danvers says with a sweet smile on her face, "I realize the language of Mr. Shakespeare makes him a bit daunting, but I'm sure you're all doing your best."

Wanda's phone buzzes silently from her bag. She looks over to Zoe raising an eyebrow. She sees her pointing to her phone. Trying to be discreet as possible, Zoe fakes searching for something in her bag as she looks at the phone.

Wanda frowns to herself before looking over at Zoe.

"Miss L/N, do you care to comment on what you've read so far?

Zoe looks up and smiles, the smile of Daddy's little girl. "Not really."

The teacher shakes her head, but lets it go.

**Natasha Romanov -- a stoic and attractive senior girl, double majoring in Linguistics and Political Science sits off to the side. She looks up and raises her hand.**

Ms. Danvers speaks, "Natasha since you're assisting us, you might as well comment. I'm assuming you read the assignment."

"Uh, yeah, I read it all."

"The whole play?"

"The whole folio. All the plays."

The blonde teacher is shocked by her words. "You've read every play by William Shakespeare?"

Natasha quirks an eyebrow, "haven't you?"

The stunned teacher doesn't answer and goes to call on the next student.

**\------**

After your dismissal from the Dean's office you receive a text from Nat, telling you to meet her in the courtyard. You sit down in the quiet corner with Nat, talking about the events of your classes.

"Your sister is so amazingly without. She'll never read him. She has no idea."

You scoff at your red-headed friend and her obsession with Shakespeare.

"The fact that you're cutting three credits so you can T.A. a 200 level English course just to hear his name, is a little without in itself if you ask me."

Your attention is caught by the dark figure of Bucky. He lights up a cigarette as he walks by. Natasha notices you staring.

"Who's that?"

You draw your attention back to Nat. "James Barnes. Random skid."

" _That's_ Bucky Barnes? The one with the weird metal arm? I heard he was dabbling in the porn industry last year."

You laugh at her gossip. "I'm sure he's completely incapable of doing anything that interesting."

Natasha drools slightly at the sight. "He looks so-"

You quickly cut her off. "I realize that the men of this fine institution are severely lacking... but writing fanfic of yourself so you can be with William Shakespeare is beyond the scope of normal obsessions. You're venturing far past daytime talk show fodder and entering the world of those who need very expensive therapy."

Natasha groans, "but imagine the things he'd say during sex."

You think for a minute before responding. "Okay, say you do it. You end up successfully shifting realities, you end up in wherever you end up and he's there. Do you really think he's gonna wanna date a twenty-some-year-old girl who-"

"That's why you _script_ it to happen!"

Nat's attention is suddenly struck by Zoe as she flits past, completely ignoring you.

**\------**

Brock Rumlow leans against one of the pillars in the courtyard, admiring Zoe as she walks by. "Looking good, Zoe."

Zoe blushes under his gaze and continues walking by as Brock hooks a predatory gaze on her.

**\------**

Natasha huffs at Brock's behavior. "Tragic."

**\------**

The bald headed man standing next to Brock, leans over admiring the roundness of Zoe's ass. He speaks to Brock, still admiring the sway in Zoe's hips. "Oh, she is way out of reach. Even for you."

Brock scoffs, "no one's out of reach for me."

His friend turns to him, raising his eyebrows. "You wanna put money on that?"

Brock's posture turns devilish, "Money, I've got. _This_ , I'm gonna do for fun."

**\------**

Across the yard Sam and Steve have met back together for lunch after separating for their first class of the day. Steve looks over to Brock's predatory gaze as he watches the women walk past him.

Steve hooks his head to Sam, motioning in the direction of Brock.

"Who's that guy?"

"That's Brock Rumlow, he's a... jerkoff." Sam raises his eyebrows, "and a model."

Steve laughs, "a model? Really?"

"Mostly regional stuff, but he's rumored to have a big tube sock ad coming out soon."

The two men laugh together. Steve continues. "He always have that shit-eating grin?"

Sam's smile widens, "Perma-shit-grin. I wish I could say he's a moron, but he got in here."

Steve sighs, "I'm guessing it wasn't his stellar grades that got him in here?"

Sam shakes his head silently answering Steve's question. The blond shakes his head, his grin falling slightly.

"Why do girls like that always like guys like that?"

"Because they're bred to. Their mothers liked guys like that, and their grandmothers before them. Their gene pool is rarely diluted."

Steve lets out a huff of breath as his eyes stare at Zoe. "Just look at her... is she always so-"

"Vapid?" Sam interrupts.

"How can you say that! She's totally-"

"Conceited."

"What are you talking about?! There's more to her than you think!"

"You don't even know her!"

"I mean look at the way she smiles, and her eyes man! She's totally pure! Alright? You're missing what's there!"

Sam's voice lowers. "No, Steve. What's _there_ is a snotty little princess. Wearing a strategically planned sundress to make guys like us realize that we can never touch her. And guys like Brock realize that they want to. She, my friend, is what guys like us will spend the rest of our lives _not_ having. Just throw her in your spank bank and move on!"

Steve shakes his head. "No! No! You're wrong about her. Maybe not the spanking part, but the rest... You're wrong."

"Alright? I'm wrong? You wanna take a shot? Be my guess... she's actually looking for a French tutor."

"Are you serious?! That's perfect!"

"You know French?"

"Yeah!"

Steve continues watching Zoe as she waves goodbye to her friends, heading off to her next class.

**\------**

You and Natasha finally finish with the day walk over to the student lot just as Brock pulls up beside the pair of you in his Tesla.

Brock gives you a once over, "The vintage look is over, Y/N. Haven't you been following the trends?"

You respond in annoyance, "Yeah, and I noticed the only part of you featured in your big Kmart spread was your elbow. Tough break."

Brock's voice drips with venom. "They're running the rest of me next month."

He zooms away as you open the door to your car, Nat opening the passenger door. You scoff from the driver's seat.

"The people at this school are so incredibly foul."

Nat responds to you. "You could always shift with me. I'm sure William has some friends."

The pair of you watch Brock pull up to your sister and her friend. You roll your eyes, waiting for your sister to get in the car.

Brock grins cheekily at the sophomores, "Need a ride, ladies?"

Zoe and Wanda can't get in Joey's car fast enough. He pulls away with a smile.

**\------**

Natasha lowers her sunglasses, "That's a charming new development"

You don't respond, instead throwing a tape into the tape deck of the vehicle. As you pull out, Sam crosses in front of you on his moped, causing you to slam on the brakes to keep from hitting him

You stick your head out the window, yelling. "Remove head from sphincter! Then pedal!

Sam begins fearfully, pedaling as you peel out, angry at the delay, your tires screeching.

Steve, having seen the commotion from a far, rushes over to Sam.

"You all right?"

He slows to a stop

Sam sighs and weighs his head heavy. "Yeah, just a minor encounter with the shrew. Your girlfriend's sister!"

Steve stares after your vehicle, "That's her? Zoe's sister?"

"The mewling, rampalian wretch herself."


	2. Let's Make a Deal

When you get back to your apartment you unlock the door expecting to see your sister on her weekly phone call with your parents. Instead your apartment is empty and your sister is nowhere in sight. You sigh, pulling out your phone to Facetime your mother.

Your mother answers, attractive and focused as ever she barely glances to the screen to see you. You see the shelf next to her that holds several bodice-ripper romance novels, all of them bearing her name as the author.

“Mom, tell me what you’re writing.”

"Undulating with desire, Kylo removes her crimson cape, revealing her creamy-”

Before she can finish, she’s cut off by the sound of a loud door being shut. You see your father walk into her office, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

“I hope dinner's ready because I only have ten minutes before Mrs. Johnson squirts out a screamer.”

Your father doesn’t even notice the phone propped up on your mother’s desk.

“Hi, Father.” You greet him from the comfort of your couch. His attention flies to the phone, finally seeing you on the screen.

“Make anyone cry today?”

You sigh, shrugging your shoulders. “Sadly, no. But it's only four-thirty, so there’s still some time left in the day.”

Just as you finish your sentence Zoe walks in. She immediately sits next to you. You pull the phone away so the camera can pick up the pair of you for your parents to see. You look at her, ignoring your parents.

“Where've you been?”

Zoe doesn’t notice the phone at first. “Nowhere…” She finally sees your parents on the small screen of your phone, her demeanor immediately shifting. “Hi Daddy! Hi Mommy!”

Your father responds, a small smile on his lips. “Hello, precious.”

You struggle to keep the vile in your stomach as you gag dramatically. “How touching.”

The pair of you notice your father flipping through the mail.

“What's this? It says University of California at Berkeley?”

A smile dawns on your face, feeling elated. “I guess I got in! For graduate school!”

Your mother looks up from the computer, interrupting the conversation.

“What’s a synonym for throbbing?”

You all ignore your mother. Your father responds to the new information of your chosen graduate school. His voice raised slightly and sounded strict. “UCB is on the other side of the country.”

You nod your head. “I know.”

“I thought we decided you were going to school here?” Your father questions you.

“You decided. Besides, I _am_ going to school here, for now.”

Zoe interrupts the conversation, feeling like the attention isn’t on her. “Is there even a question that we want her to stay?”

You give your sister an evil look, already plotting your next move your devious grin turns to a smirk as you turn to the screen.

“Ask Zoe who drove her home”

Your mother drawls from the other side of the phone, ignoring the conversation happening between her husband and two daughters. “Swollen...turgid.”

Your father’s anger quickly turns to your sister. “Who drove you home?”

Zoe glares at you then turns to your father on the screen, batting her eyelashes and widening her eyes. “Now don't get upset. Daddy, but there's this boy... and I think he might ask…”

Your father interrupts her. “No! I think I already know what he’s going to ask you! And the answer is already no!”

You smile, smugly, on your couch watching your sister throw a fit and your father’s face turn 50 shades of red.

“Daddy! That’s so unfair!” Your sister’s high pitched voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard.

Your father pulls out his own phone as your sister drags on about the unjust rules of dating your father has placed on the pair of you. You roll your eyes, idly picking at your nails.

You father hits play on his phone, holding the phone ungodly close to the camera as he yells over the sounds of screaming women.

“What are my two rules, in order for you two to be living on your own while going to school.” He pulls the phone back, but the wails can still be heard.

“Number 1: No dating.” Your father’s eye searches the screen between you and your sister. “Number 2: No dating.”

Zoe continues her protests while you can't help but smile at the whole situation.

Your father cuts her off. “Do you know what this is?”

You and Zoe, in unison, speak. “The sound of a young woman in labor.”

The crying wails eventually stop. Your mother’s head lifts up from her laptop as she smiles ear to ear. “Tumescent!”

Your father sighs loudly looking at his wife. “You're not helping.”

Your father picks up her phone, walking out of the study now, the movement causes his camera to become shaky.

Zoe still pleads her case. “Daddy! Can we get back to me please! I am the _only_ girl at Columbia who isn’t dating!”

“Oh, no you’re not. Your sister doesn’t date.” Your father states proudly.

You look away from the screen to smile at Zoe. “And I don’t intend to!”

“And why is that?” Your father continues for you.

You scoff rolling your eyes at him. “Have you seen the unwashed miscreants there? This campus is littered with a bunch of Chads from Sigma Apple Pie who are living off daddy’s money and only got in here because of their family name.”

Just as Zoe begins protesting again your father smiles widely and interrupts her.

“Okay! New deal! New solution! Old rules? Out! New rule...” He pauses for dramatic effect. “Zoe can start dating.”

Zoe smiles triumphantly and you huff out a breath of annoyance.

“When your sister does.”

Your sister stands in frustration picking up your phone so she can move to the kitchen of your shared apartment.

“But it's not fair… she's a mutant, Daddy! What if she never starts dating?”

“Then neither will you. And I'll get to sleep at night knowing neither of my daughters are being impregnated!”

The irony of his last sentence is lost on both your sister and your father as his work phone goes off alerting him to his next patient going into labor.

Your father tells your sister to put you back on the phone. She holds the phone out to your face. Your father on the other end speaks. “We will talk about UCB later!”

Zoe quickly turns the phone around before your father can hang up but is too late. She glares daggers at you as you smile smugly on the couch. She throws the phone in your lap, storming off to her bedroom.

 **\------** **_The next day_ **

Steve nurses his coffee as he sits with an empty chair beside him in a coffee shop. The door opens and Zoe arrives in a flurry of perfectly curled hair. She sits in the chair next to Steve.

“Can we make this quick?”

Steve stretches, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “Well, I thought we'd start with pronunciation, if that's okay with you.”

“Not the hacking and gagging and spitting part. _Please_.”

Steve seizes the moment. “Okay... then how 'bout we try out some French cuisine. Saturday? Night?”

Zoe smiles slowly. “You're asking me out. That's so cute. What's your name again?”

Steve turns red in embarrassment. “Forget it.”

Zoe flusters over her words. “No, no, it's my fault... we didn't have a proper introduction-”

“Steve.” His blue eyes sparkle as he smiles demurely at the pretty girl.

She sighs dramatically. “The thing is, Stephen.”

“It’s Steve.”

“Whatever. I'm at the mercy of a particularly hideous breed of loser. My sister. I can't date until she does.”

“Seems like she could get a date easy enough…” He shrugs.

She fingers a lock of her hair. He looks on, dazzled.

“The problem is, she's completely anti-social.”

“Why?” Steve arches an eyebrow.

“Unsolved mystery. She used to be really popular when she started here, then it was just like she got sick of it or something.”

“That's a shame.”

“Theories abound as to why, but I’m pretty sure she’s just incapable of human interaction. Plus, she’s a bitch.” She reaches out and touches his arm, continuing. “ _Gosh_ , if only we could find Y/N a boyfriend…”

Steve smiles, having no idea how stupid he is. “Let me see what I can do.”

**\------**

After Zoe has left the coffee shop, Steve takes out his phone, shooting a text off to Sam.

Steve looks through the window and sees a tall figure leaning against a motorcycle. He has a beige button up and dark pants on and the sun catches the light off his metal arm.

Steve discretely snaps a picture of the man, sending it off to Sam.

****

****

****

**\------**

Steve gathers his belongings, intent to make his way across the street to talk to the man with a metal arm. As Steve approaches, Bucky gives him a glare and his mouth is set in a firm line.

“Hi there! I’m Steve.”

Bucky swings a leg over the bike, revving the engine as Steve steps to the side. Bucky rides off, without so much as a word.

Steve calls after him. “Okay then… later?”

**\------**

Sam looks up from the courtyard… spying Brock with a piece of chalk in his hands drawing boobs on the sidewalk.

****

**\------**

Sam gets up from his hammock and walks over sitting next to Brock, trying to act casual.

“Hey.”

Brock looks to Sam with disgust. “Are you lost?”

“Nope, just came by to chat.”

He nods. “We don't chat.”

“Well, actually, I thought I'd run an idea by you. You know, just to see if you're interested.”

“I’m not, so scram.”

Sam suffers the indignity of Brock’s tone and speaks undaunted. He grimaces. “Just hear me out? You want Zoe, right?”

Brock sits back and cackles at his drawing.

Sam continues. “But she can't go out with you because her sister is this insane head case and no one will go out with her... right?”

Brock sighs, splitting between a glare and narrow eyes. “Does this conversation have a purpose?”

Sam throws his hands up in defense. “So, what you need to do is recruit a guy who'll go out with her. Someone who's up for the job…”

Sam pulls out his phone, pulling up the picture of Bucky that Steve sent.

 _‘That_ guy? I heard he ate a live duck once. Everything but he beak and the feet.”

Sam smiles, “Exactly!

The other man raises an eyebrow, suspicious. “What's in it for you?”

“Oh, hey, nothin' man! Purely good will on my part!”

Sam stands and leaves behind a confounding Brock, shooting Steve a text.

****

**_\------meanwhile_ **

You and Natasha sit in a diner just off campus, enjoying lunch together as usual. You groan, causing a few patrons to turn your way.

“So he has this huge raging fit about UCB and insists that I go to his male-domInated, puking frat boy, number one golf team school. I have no say at all.”

“William would never have gone to-”

You narrow your eyes at her, slightly concerned with her obsession. “William didn't even go to high school.”

“Hey! That's never been proven!!”

You grin, widely. “Neither has his heterosexuality.”

You finish with a tilt of your head. The pretty red-head replies with a look of ice.

“If I was Zoe, it would be, "Any school you want, precious. Don't forget your tiara."

The bell chimes in the diner, causing the pair of you to look up the handsome man in the doorway. Bucky takes a seat in a booth, not even glancing your way. Natasha leans toward you with the glow of fresh gossip

“Scott Lang told me he’s a Russian spy! He’s killed over 23 people!” Natasha whispers, leaning in close to you while looking at the brooding man.

His eyes connect to yours, and he works a half smile at you. His steel blue eyes pierce yours. He nods at you acknowledging your stare. You quickly turn back to Nat.

“Scott Lang is an idiot.”

She replies, “whatever you say.”

 **\------** **_one week later_ **

Bucky sits before Mrs Potts, eating his Thai food, during his weekly check up with the dean.

“I don't understand, James. You haven't done anything asinine this week. Are you not feeling well?”

Bucky shrugs his shoulder while shoving more food into his mouth. “Touch of the flu.”

“I'm at a loss, then. What should we talk about?”

He smiles, his charming smile. “How 'bout those sex candles over there?” He motions to the box in the room.

She tolerates his comment with her withering glance.” _Or_ we discuss your driving need to be a hemorrhoid?”

Bucky shrugs again. “What’s there to discuss?”

“You have high grades, I mean you got into this school, and as far as I can tell, you're only slightly psychotic… so why is it that you're such a fuck-up?”

He smirks at the blonde. “Well, you know, there's the prestige of the job title... and the benefits package is pretty good…” He drawls in his Brooklyn accent.

Mrs. Potts looks at her clock and sighs, noticing the time.

“Fine. Go do something repugnant and give us something to talk about next week.”

 **\------** **_the same day_ **

Steve and Zoe sit cozied up together in another student lounge.

 **“** C'esc ma tete... This is my head?”

He grins at the dough eyed girl. “Right. See? You're ready for the quiz!”

Zoe groans in frustration. “I don't want to know how to say that though. I want to know useful things. Like where the good stores are. How much does champagne cost? Stuff like that. I have never in my life had to point out my head to someone!!”

Steve flounders over his words. “That's because it's such a nice one.”

Zoe closes her textbook leaning into Steve. “Forget French.” A seductive smile dances across her face. She continues. “How is our little Find the Wench A Date plan progressing?”

“Well, there's someone I think might be-”

Zoe’s eyes light up. “Show me!”

Steve pulls out his phone, looking through his photos. She shows him the photo he snapped a week ago. Zoe looks at the picture, a wicked gleam in her eye.

“My God, he's repulsive. He's so… _perfect_!”

**_\------the next day_ **

Brock watches Bucky from across the weight room of the campus gym. He and a member of his hulking entourage approach Bucky, who still manages to look cool, even in workout clothes. They pull him aside roughly.

“What the hell man?”

Brock dismisses his entourage. “Take a walk with me.”

“How about you fuck off?”

“Come on man… I wanna show you something.”

Bucky’s curiosity is peaked, deciding he can just punch the shit-head disrupting his workout if the conversation annoys him enough he obliges and walks to the stairs, ascending to the upper levels of the gym with Brock in tow. Once the pair reach their destination, Brock points you out.

You’re in the boxing room, throwing punches to the bag that hangs in the room. Your black sports bra and leggings leave little to the imagination.

“See that girl?”

Bucky follows his line of vision to you as you land a particularly harsh jab to the bag.

“Yeah.”

“What do you think?”

You stop punching, heaving and sweat dripping down your body. You walk over to your water bottle, glaring at anyone who tries to step in the room.

Bucky shrugs his shoulders watching you. “Two legs, nice rack…”

“Yeah, whatever. I want you to go out with her.”

Bucky’s voice drips with sarcasm as he chuckles. “Sure, Sparky. I'll get right on it.”

“You just said-” The other man stares at Bucky in confusion.

“You need money to take a girl out.”

“But you'd go out with her if you had the dough?”

Bucky stares at Brock deadpan. His dislike for the guy is obvious.

“Yeah, I'd take her to Europe if I had the plane,” Bucky says in a mocking tone.

Brock smiles. “You got it, Barnes. I pick up the tab, you do the honors.”

Bucky quirks an eyebrow. “You're gonna pay me to take out some girl?”

“I can't date her sister until that one,” he says pointing to you, ”gets a boyfriend. And _that's_ the catch. She doesn't want a boyfriend.”

Bucky nods and hums, thinking over his options. “How much?”

“Twenty bucks each time you take her out.”

He laughs, “I can't take a girl like that out on twenty bucks.”

“Fine, thirty.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, urging him up

“Take it or leave it. This isn't a negotiation.”

Bucky smiles, “Fifty, and you've got your man.”

Brock huffs, “fine.” He pulls out his phone and opens Venmo. He sends $50 to Bucky.

Bucky walks away with a smile, before glancing back at you one more time.

**_\------the next morning_ **

You find yourself in the gym, running laps around the indoor track before your first class of the day.

Bucky sits nearby, watching your boobs bounce in your sports bra. When he sees you slowing down to a walk he gets up jogging over to you.

“Hey, doll.”

You stop in your tracks, turning slowly to look at him. His height forces you to look up at him, straining your neck you take a step back.

“I mean... How ya doin'?

You smile brightly at the blue eyed man. “Sweating like a pig, actually. And yourself?”

“There's a way to get a guy's attention.” He winks at you.

You roll your eyes. “My mission in life.” You continue to stand there, undaunted with your hand on your hip.

“Obviously, I've struck your fancy. So, you see, it worked. The world makes sense again.”

Bucky’s steely gaze narrows. He steps closer. “Pick you up Friday, then.”

You laugh. “Oh, right. Friday.”

He backs up a little. He uses his most seductive tone. “The night I take you to places you've never been before.” His tongue darts out, swiping his bottom lip. He sucks it into his mouth and smiles. “And back.”

“Like where? A night time walk along the Hudson? Do you even know my name, Frosty?

He smirks, “I know a lot more than that.”

You stare at him, mouth slightly agape. His gaze flicks down to your pouty lips before meeting your eyes again. You noticed.

“Doubtful, very much so.”

You walk away quickly, leaving him standing alone as he stares after you.

“You're no bargain either, dollface!” He calls after you.


	3. Research and Develop

In your cosy two bedroom apartment, you dread every time you walk into the bathroom. The prospect of sharing it with your sister is already enough to set you on edge most days. You stand at the sink, washing your face, your hair in your usual ponytail.

The moment you've been dreading occurs, your sister walks into the bathroom. She begins playing with your hair.

"Have you ever considered a new look? You could have some serious potential buried under all this hostility."

You smack her hand away. Drying off your face. "I also have the potential to smack the crap out of you if you don't get out of my way. It's my time in the bathroom."

"Could you at least try being nice for once? People wouldn't know what to expect if that ever happened." She smirks at you, egging you into a fight.

You look at her through the mirror as she sits on the covered toilet, staring at you. Waiting for your reply. "I don't care what people think."

She scoffs at you, rolling her eyes. "Yes, you do."

You stand your ground. "No, I don't."

Your eyes narrow at her as she stands to grab her brush from the drawer, she begins brushing her hair. You attempt a moment of sisterly love.

"You don't always have to be what they want you to be, you know?"

She stops brushing her hair to stare at you, her brows raised.

"I happen to like being adored, _thank you_."

"God, you're so fucking naive." You leave the bathroom, walking down the hall to your bedroom where you slam the door behind you.

**_\------ the next day_ **

Since it was a nice day out, you opted to walk to class today. Enjoying the scenery around you and breathing in the fresh air. When you reach your destination you see Bucky sitting on a bench. You avoid eye contact as you walk past him.

But to no avail at avoiding him, he gets up and walks beside you a huge grin on his face.

"Hey."

You continue ignoring him, making your way up the building.

"You really hate me, don't you?"

You finally turn your head, looking up at him as he keeps in step with you. "I don't really think you warrant that strong of an emotion."

Bucky smiles at you, again. "Then say you'll go out with me? 1020?"

"And why would I do that?" You scoff.

"Oh, come on, a night of drinks on me. The dazzling lights of New York City in your eyes..." He quirks a brow at you and lowers his voice. "My hands on your ass." He whispers seductively in your ear, his hot breath sends a chill down your spine. You stop walking, taking a step back from him.

Your cold demeanor returns. "You covered in my vomit?"

He takes a step toward you, peering down at you. "Seven-thirty?"

You turn on him, busting through the doors, praying you send a clear message to him.

**_\------the following Saturday_ **

You emerge from a music store carrying a bag of records in your teeth, as you fumble through your purse with both hands. You find your keys and pull them out with a triumphant tug.

When you look up you find Bucky leaning against the hood of your car. HIs arms crossed, the metal of his arm shining and whirring in the day-time.

"Nice ride. Vintage fenders."

You take the bag out of your mouth, narrowing your gaze at your new stalker.

"Are you following me?"

He shakes his head and looks down, uncrossing his arms. He looks over his shoulder. "I was in the laundromat, saw your car." His gaze turns back to you. "Thought I'd say hi."

"Okay... um, hi."

You slide around him, aiming for your car door. He slides over, blocking you off. His arm brushing against your body.

"You're not much of a talker are you?"

You maintain your ground, the heat of his body radiating off him. "Depends on the topic. My fenders don't really whip me into a verbal frenzy."

He regards you for a moment, his eyes flicking down to your lips before they catch your eyes again.

"You're not afraid of me are you?"

Sure, you've heard all the rumors but that's just what they are rumors from low-lices with nothing better to do with their average boring lives than make up shit about other people in a failed effort to find something interesting about their mediocre lives.

"And why would I be afraid of you?"

He leans into you, his hand finding your hip. You gasp at the contact, your own gaze flicking to his lips now as you watch them curl up.

"Most people are."

"Well, I'm not."

He leans down to you, his lips inches from your own. "Well, maybe you're not afraid of me. But I'm sure you've thought about me naked." He winks at you.

And just like that the moment is lost. Typical male.

You step back from his hold on you. Your brows furrowed and your voice laced with sarcasm.   
"Am I that transparent?" Your voice raises in mocking. "I _want_ you... _oh I need you!! Oh baby!"_

You finally grab the door handle, knocking him off of your car as Brock pulls up behind you. He blocks you in your spot, getting out of your car. Bucky stands on the sidewalk watching.

You lean out your window. "Hey! Do you mind?"

Brock walks past you, locking his car.

"Not at all."

You stare at him in disbelief, your vision blurring red. You throw your car in reverse and a loud crash is heard as metal meets metal and the door of Brock's precious luxury car gets damaged.

Bucky watches, a delighted grin on his face. Brock runs back outside."

"You fucking bitch!"

You plaster the sweetest smile on your face. "Whoops."

**_\------later that day in your apartment_ **

"WHOOPS?" Your father yells at you over the phone."My insurance does not cover PMS!"

You scoff over the phone, "Then tell them I had a seizure!"

Your dad sighs on the other end. "Is this about UCB? Are you punishing me?

You remain silent on the couch, flipping through Netflix, electing to ignore your father.

"Why can't we agree on this?"

Your voice raises in agitation. "Because you're making decisions for me."

"As a parent, that's my right."

"So what I want doesn't matter?"

"You're twenty-one. You don't know what you want. You won't know until you're forty-five and you don't have it."

You know exactly what you want though. His over-controlling parenting is driving you wild. "I _want_ to go to a West Coast school! I _want_ you to trust me to make my own choices. I came here because that's what _you_ _wanted_. I _want_ -"

Your father's work phone begins to ring, cutting you off. You roll your eyes.

"Christ! I want a night to go by that I'm not staring a contraction in the face. I'm sorry, Y/N. I have to take this."

He hangs up, leaving you stewing on your couch in your apartment.

**_\------the same night_ **

Bucky lounges on his own couch, blaring his music he hardly notices the buzzing on his phone.

Bucky notices a banner across his screen from Venmo. Notifying him of another $50 sent by Brock.

Bucky immediately opens the app, and deposits the money with a smile.

**_\------a few days later_ **

Steve and Zoe sit at their usual table at the coffee shop.

"La copine et I 'ami? La diferance?"

Zoe glares at him as she responds. "A 'copine' is someone you can count on. An 'ami' is someone who makes promises he can't keep."

Steve sets the book down on the table. He runs his hands down his face.

"You got something on your mind?"

Zoe huffs in frustration. "I counted on you to help my cause. You and that thug are obviously failing." She hesitates before plastering a sweet smile on her face and batting her eyelashes up at steve. Grabbing his hand she holds it in her lap.

"Aren't we ever going on our date?"

He melts. "You have my word. As a gentleman"

"You're sweet." She squeezes his hand.

He blushes at her praise and watches her toss her hair back

"How do you get your hair to look like that?"

"Eber's Deep Conditioner every two days. And I never, ever use a blowdryer without the diffuser attachment."

Steve nods with interest. "You know, I read an article about that."

Zoe looks surprised. "You did?"

Steve nods, pulling his hand up with hers still clasped in it to kiss over her knuckles.

**_\------meanwhile_ **

Bucky stands at the sink, washing his hands Sam and Steve arguing with each other in harsh whispers.

"Say it." Bucky's voice comes out cold and harsh.

Sam clears his throat, annoyed. "What?"

"Whatever the hell it is you're standin' there waitin' to say."

Steve steps toward the man. "We wanted to talk to you about the plan."

Bucky turns to them, confusion laced on his face.

"What plan?"

Sam steps forward.

"The situation is, my man Steve here has a major jones for Zoe L/N."

Bucky laughs. "What is it with this chick? She have honey-flavored tits?"

Steve starts to object, but Sam holds up a hand.

"I think I speak correctly when I say that Steve's love is pure. Purer than say... Brock Rumlow's."

Bucky shrugs. "Rumlow can plow whoever he wants. I'm just in this for the cash."

Steve starts choking at the thought of Brock plowing his beloved Zoe.

"That's where we can help you. With Y/N."

"So, Rumlow can get the girl?"

Sam pats Bucky on the back. "James...uh, Bucky, you're not looking at the big picture. Brock is just a pawn. We set this whole thing up so Steve can get the girl."

Bucky smiles. He likes the idea of Brock being a pawn in this game.

"You two are gonna help me tame the wild beast?"

Sam grins. "We're your guys."

"It's a deal."

He swings the door open and exits, leaving Sam and Steve grinning at each other. "We're in."

**_\------groupchat with Steve, Sam, and Bucky_ **

**ⓞⓟⓔⓡⓐⓣⓘⓞⓝ ⓨ/ⓝ**

**🅐🅜🅔🅡🅘🅒🅐'🅢 🅐🅢🅢, 🅱🅸🆁🅳 🅱🆁🅰🅸🅽, 🄱🅄🄲🄺🅈**

**🅱🅸🆁🅳 🅱🆁🅰🅸🅽**

**𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚝! 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚢... 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚢.**

**🅐🅜🅔🅡🅘🅒🅐'🅢 🅐🅢🅢**

**𝙸𝚝'𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢**

**🄱🅄🄲🄺🅈**

𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝? 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚗𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛?

**🅱🅸🆁🅳 🅱🆁🅰🅸🅽**

**𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝... 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚢/𝚗 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎**

**🄱🅄🄲🄺🅈**

𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎. 𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝

**_\------later that day_ **

Brock and Zoe stand outside together, Brock showing Zoe's photos of himself on his phone. His camera roll is practically a homage to his modeling career. Cheesy print ads of him: running in a field of daisies, petting a kitten, etc.

"Which do you like better?" Brock switches between two nearly identical photos, the only difference being his shirt.

Zoe narrows her eyes. "I think I like the white shirt."

Brock nods thoughtfully.

"It's more..." He goes quiet, searching for the right word.

"Pensive?" She furrows her brows as he stares at her in silence. Slightly annoyed with him.

Brock nods at her, giving her a wink. "So, you going to Thor's thing on Friday?"

"Hopefully."

He gives her his best flirtatious smile. "Good, 'cause I'm not gonna bother if you won't be there." He taps her on the nose and she giggles.

**_\------later that afternoon_ **

Zoe sits in her bedroom, mindlessly scrolling through her social media pages. She sees a text notification pop up.

**🆂🆃🅴🆅🅸🅴**

**𝙷𝚎𝚢! 𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚎𝚗𝚍?**

**🅉🄾🄴**

𝚢𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚜𝚜𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚘

𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚍

𝚜𝚘 𝚒 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚝... 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚞𝚗𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚘𝚎𝚜 :(

**🆂🆃🅴🆅🅸🅴**

**𝚈𝚎𝚊𝚑...**

**𝙸'𝚖 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝**

**𝚂𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝... 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠? 💅**

**🅉🄾🄴**

𝚘𝚑𝚑𝚑... 𝚗𝚘? 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 🤷

𝚒 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚎𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚠𝚎𝚛... 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚊 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚘 𝚘𝚏 𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚗

**🆂🆃🅴🆅🅸🅴**

**𝚂𝚘, 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜?**

**🅉🄾🄴**

𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚎'𝚍 𝚍𝚒𝚙 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚜𝚖𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚜

**🆂🆃🅴🆅🅸🅴**

**𝙰𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚝𝚘𝚘?**

**🅉🄾🄴**

𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚗𝚟𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍???

**🆂🆃🅴🆅🅸🅴**

**𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐... 𝚠𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚘 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎**

**🅉🄾🄴**

𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚠... 𝚒 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚜𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚊 𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚔? 𝚜𝚗𝚊𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍.

Zoe gets up from her room, and enters your room. Your room is organized chaos. Not perfect, but not unbearable. Your clothes are piled in a basket by your bed. Posters of your favorite bands and movies line the walls.

She walks over to your desk in the corner, flipping on the lamp.

**🅉🄾🄴**

𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎'𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚎, 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝, 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚝𝚜...

After rummaging through your desk, she makes her way to the pile of clothes. She notices something sheer and frilly on top and holds it up.

𝙾𝙼𝙶

𝙾𝙼𝙶

**🆂🆃🅴🆅🅸🅴**

𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝?

**🅉🄾🄴**

𝚂𝙷𝙴 𝙷𝙰𝚂 𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙶𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙴

**🆂🆃🅴🆅🅸🅴**

**𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗?** ****

**🅉🄾🄴**

𝙾𝙷 𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚅𝙸𝙴!! 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚢 𝙱𝙻𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚍𝚊𝚢

**🆂🆃🅴🆅🅸🅴**

𝙾𝚔𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍...?

**🅉🄾🄴**

𝙸𝚃 𝙼𝙴𝙰𝙽𝚂 𝚂𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙰𝙽𝚃𝚂 𝚃𝙾 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝚂𝙴𝚇

**_\------that night_ **

Steve and Sam pull up to the bar, meeting Bucky inside. The bar is dingy, catering to an older crowd. Its wooden bar top glistens with spilled beer. Bucky stands on the far side of the room, shooting pool, while smoking a cigarette.

"I wouldn't touch anything... you may get hepatitis." Sam says to Steve.

Steve and Sam approach after getting their IDs checked. Bucky sees them, and turns.

"So, what have you got for me?"

"Well, did you check the images we sent??"

Bucky pulls the cigarette up to his lips with his metal hand. Steve frowns at the gesture.

"Okay, well first thing. Y/N hates smokers."

"So... I have to quit?"

Steve takes the cigarette from Bucky's fingers, tossing it on the ground and puffing it out. The other patrons frown at the action for not using one of the trays littered around the bar.

Sam steps in. "Just for now though."

Bucky nods his head at the dark-skinned man.

Steve shakes his head, hesitant to say the next thing. "Another thing... Y/N likes pretty people."

Bucky looks between the pair of them. They nervously shuffle back and forth on their feet.

"What? You don't think I'm pretty?"

Sam smacks Steve on the back of the head and then gestures to the man in front of them.

"He's pretty!"

"Okay! I just wasn't sure."

Bucky leans back on the pool table, bringing his beer up to his lips to take a sip.

Steve smiles. "Right so...the list? Did you check it?"

Bucky nods. "Yes, she likes Thai food, feminist prose, and indie-alt music. I'm not sure what that gives me though."

Bucky takes another sip before speaking again.

"Am I supposed to buy her some noodles and a book and sit around listening to people who don't know how to properly play their instruments."

Steve responds. "Ever been to Bowery Ballroom?"

Bucky shakes his head. "Yeah."

"Girl in Red is playing there tomorrow night."

Bucky begins shaking his head furiously. Rolling his eyes. "Don't make me do it, man... isn't that band for you know?"

"She swings both ways!"

"It's almost an hour away from here dude!" Bucky groans.

Sam chimes in. "Assail your ears for one night!"

"It's her favorite band." Steve adds.

Bucky groans. Steve continues. "She has lingerie! Black too!"

The man looks at him, trying to decipher the meaning.

Steve finishes his thought. "If that helps?"

Sam laughs, patting Bucky on his metal arm. "Couldn't hurt, right?"

Bucky nods, off in thought while he takes another sip and shrugs off Sam's hand.

**_\------the next night_ **

Music blares in your bedroom, you and Nat dance around as you get ready for the night. Suddenly, your bedroom door opens, revealing your annoying little sister, Zoe.

"Can you turn down the Wailing Menstrual Bitches? I'm trying to study."

You ignore your sister, as you look in the mirror above your desk putting on your black velvet choker with the pearl that dangles. Nat groans and grabs your phone from the desk and turns down the volume.

Zoe stands in the doorway, looking between you and Natasha, her mouth agape.

"Oh my god, don't tell me you're actually going out? On a school night, no less!"

You shoot your sister a glare.

"Oh my God, does this mean you're becoming normal?"

You grab your lipstick, a dark shade of red. Once it's applied you turn to Zoe. "It means that Girl in Red is playing and we're going."

Zoe sighs and looks down in disappointment. "Oh, I thought you might have a date." She pauses for a beat. "I don't know why I'm bothering to ask, but are you going to Thor's party Friday night?"

You deadpan at your sister.

"What do you think?"

Zoe, throws her arms down like a toddler throwing a tantrum as she stomps her foot. "I think you're a freak. I think you do this to torture me. And I think you suck."

Her composure reforms and she smiles sweetly shutting the door behind her as she prances away.

**_\------one hour later_ **

You and Natasha walk in, both of you pulling out your IDs for the bouncer. The bouncer, who's name tag says Bruce, looks the pair of you up and down. He looks at their IDs. Natasha gently moves Kat aside, wearing a face that could only be described as "I AM a Victoria's Secret model."

She sticks out her chest and licks her lips. Bruce stares at her deadpan and hands her back the IDs.

"Go ahead." He motions for you to enter. He pauses as red-head walks past. "And you." He smirks at her as she grins back at him.

"Yes?"

He sighs. "Take it easy on the guys in there."

Natasha winks at him and sashays inside, looking over her shoulder at him.

**_\------later, at the Bowery Ballroom_ **

"Barnes, my man!" The bouncer shouts at Bucky as he walks up, his signature leather jacket and black v-neck hugging his upper body.

They shake hands.

"Always a pleasure, Brucie."

"Didn't have you pegged for a Girl in Red fan."

Bucky smiles. "Fan of a fan." He describes your features to Bruce who quirks an eyebrow.

"She was with the hot red-head. I just sent them through."

Bucky laughs and goes into the theater

Onstage, the band is playing their music. Near the stage girls jump around and sing along to the music. A few locking lips. Bucky bellies up and looks around the club, searching for you.

They rev into their next song, about a dead girl in the pool.

Natasha and you glow with sweat. You sport a black leather mini skirt, with a red crop top, that ties in the back, leaving your back open. When you hear the beginning chords of the song, you look at each other and scream with glee as you begin to dance. You couldn't be having a better time.

Bucky approaches a nearby bar, signaling the attention of the bartender. He orders his drink, looking back out to the crowd where he finds you. You're gleeful, dancing and looking completely at ease. None of your usual "attitude." Bucky is transfixed. And most definitely attracted.

You pull Nat into your side, telling her you're getting a refill. You make your way through the abyss of people to the bar.

You signal for the bartender and as you're waiting, you look around. You spot Bucky a few feet away. You mumble to yourself, "shit."

You sneak a glance at the tall brunette. He's staring, but this time he looks away before you can. Despite yourself, you find yourself thoroughly miffed.

"What can I get you?" The bartender asks you.

"Oh, just a gin and tonic is fine."

You look at Bucky again. He's completely absorbed in the band. You scowl. Your drink arrives and you march off, forgetting to pay. You walk up to Bucky.

"You're not fooling anyone."

Bucky looks at you, feigning surprised. He yells. "Hey, doll. Great show, huh?"

"If you're planning on asking me out you might as well get it over with."

"Excuse me?"

You roll your eyes in annoyance. "That's what you want, isn't it?"

Bucky huffs and throws his arms around gesturing to the crowd and the band. "Do you mind? You're sort of ruining it for me."

You seethe. "You're not surrounded by your usual cloud of smoke."

The band takes a break, so the two of you can stop yelling now.

Bucky's blue eyes find yours. He smiles and nods his head. "I know. I quit."

He leans back, making no attempt to hit on you. You move closer to his space, your body inches away.

"Oh, really?" Bucky doesn't respond, he smiles slipping on his drink.

You're completely taken aback. He uses the moment to his advantage and brushes your hair behind your ear as he leans forward, to graze his lips slightly against your ear. His warm breath hitting your ear. "I watched you out there. I've never seen you look like that."

You step away, brushing the hair back that he just touched. Your cheeks pink and your body feeling even warmer than earlier.

He smiles, ever charming. "Come to that party with me."

At that moment, the band starts another song.

You yell, slightly unable to hear what he said. "What?"

The bartender approaches the pair of you. He looks at you. "You forgot to pay!"

Bucky interrupts the encounter. "I got it, Vis." He tosses some bills on the bar.

Rather than thank him, you simply watch him, trying to figure out his motive.

Bucky looks at you. "Nine-thirty then?"

He stares at you, understanding you can't hear him. He bends down talking in your ear again. "The party? I'll pick you up at 9:30?"

He pulls back, waiting for your response.

"So, is that a yes?"

You smile at him, rolling your eyes as you shake your head. "No, but it isn't a no either."

Bucky smiles. You didn't say no this time.


	4. The Party

**———next morning**

You stand in line at the campus Starbucks, waiting to place your order. After you place your order, you take out your wallet but the cashier at the counter smiles widely at you. 

“No need! The man over there already paid for you.”

Your eyes follow to wear she’s pointing. They settle on the broad shoulders, clad in a black leather jacket. Piercing blue eyes and a wide smile stare back at you… Bucky.

You nod at the cashier, walking over to Bucky.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Figured after the night you had you could use the treat.”

Just then Mrs. Potts walks in, staring at you and Bucky, a frown on her face. She skips the line walking over to the pair of you. “You two know each other?”

Both you and Bucky speak at the same time. “Yeah.” “No.”

Her eyes narrow, they finally settle on Bucky. “Dear God, stay away from her. If you two ever decided to breed, evil would truly walk the earth.”

You roll your eyes at Bucky as you walk away, he gives you a wink on your way out the door.

**———Friday** **night**

Zoe and Wanda stand outside your room. Your music is blaring and the door is shut. Zoe looks at her phone, looking at the time.

“She's obviously not going.”

You open the door, looking between the two girls. High waisted jeans, a black strappy crop top and your hair in a messy bun. You brush past the girls, intent to ignore them.

Zoe follows you into the kitchen. “Well?? Are you going?!”

You grab an apple, leaning on the counter. You take a bite.

“You can go without me, you know that right?”

Zoe raises her voice. “And what!? Risk you telling Daddy?! No thank you!”

You ignore her, taking a bite of your apple instead. 

“Y/N!!! People expect me to be there!” She stomps her heel down in frustration. “You're ruining my life! Because you won't be normal, I can't be normal.”

You raise your brow at her, enjoying egging her on. “What's normal?”

“Tony Stark's party is normal, but you're too busy listening to Bitches Who Need Prozac to know that.”

You’re definitely going to the party, but you’re enjoying watching your sister throw a tantrum way too much to tell her right now.

Zoe whines. “Can't you forget for just one night that you're completely wretched?”

You smile, a shit-eating grin. “At least I'm not a clouted fen-sucked hedge-pig.”

Zoe tosses her hair. “Like I'm supposed to know what that even means.”

“It's Shakespeare. Maybe you've heard of him?”

“Yeah, he's your freak friend Natasha's boyfriend. I guess since I'm not allowed to go out, I should obsess over a dead guy, too.”

You stare at Zoe, bringing out your phone and looking at the time. “If you stop whining for like 2 minutes I’ll tell you my plans.”

“I don't care about your plans!”

“Fine, then have fun here. I’m going out.”

You walk out of the kitchen, finishing your apple. You make your way into the bathroom. Intent to throw some makeup on.

Zoe and Wanda look at each other, thrilled, and burst into gleeful screams.

“Will you let me do your hair?!” Zoe calls from the doorway. 

Your mouth gapes open, “no.”

Zoe and Wanda mumble to themselves. After some eyeliner, a bit of blush, and some mascara you’re ready to go. 

You grab your car keys and a leather jacket, when you open the door, Bucky is standing there.

“Nine-thirty, right?”

You stare at Bucky in shock, you didn’t actually think he’d show up. Your eyes rake over him, his brown hair tousled and styled, steely blue eyes piercing yours. Your eyes travel down, his usual leather jacket paired with a button down to reveal a bit of his chest. Your face feels hot as your eyes look over the bit of exposed skin. 

Bucky brings his hand up, scratching the back of his neck. A slight blush on his cheeks. “I'm early.”

You hold up your keys, “I'm driving.”

**———**

You push through the door, walking through the crowd. Bucky saunters inside behind you.

In the kitchen you see Brock lining up a row of shots, the crowd around him whooping and cheering.You try turning back around, only to have Brock rush over and block you in the doorway.

“Damn baby, you look good.”

You glare at him, crossing your arms. You push him out of the way muttering a “fuck off” on the way out.

“Where ya goin?” He calls from the door.

“Away.”

“Your sister here?” Brock asks with a cheeky grin.

You halt immediately, turning back to frown at him. Eyebrows drawn together and your mouth in a firm line.

“Leave my sister alone.”

He smirks. “And why would I do that?”

Brock slithers away from the door to watch, giving you one last smirk, just as Zoe walks into the kitchen.

“Just who I was looking for.” Brock says to Zoe. He puts his arm around Zoe and escorts her out

You look at your sister, “Zoe.”

Zoe keeps walking, ignoring you. As she keeps walking away, Bucky places his hand on your hip. You shrug him off, walking over to the shots. You grab one, immediately down it. Another follows down. The burn of vodka makes you squeeze your eyes, you shake your head.

Bucky walks up to you, a slight frown on his face. “What's this?”

“Isn’t this what you’re supposed to do at a party?” You respond in a mocking tone. 

Bucky shrugs, his eyes looking down at you. “I say, do what you wanna do.”

You give him a quizzical stare. “Funny, you're the only one.” You end your sentence, raising another shot in cheers and downing it.

**———meanwhile**

Steve and Sam enter the house. Steve looks around for his beloved, while Sam schmoozes with all in attendance and dishes dirt simultaneously.

Sam spots Zoe and Wanda, Sam grabs Steve's shoulders, turning his body in her direction. Sam whispers to him. “Follow the love, man”

While Steve walks over to the pair, Zoe is noticeably without Brock. 

Steve smiles down at Zoe, his charming smile. “Evening, ladies.”

Zoe turns and graces him with a pained smile. “Hi.”

“Looks like things worked out tonight, huh?”

Zoe ignores the question and tries to pawn him off. “You know Wanda?”

“I believe we share an art instructor.” He smiles to Wanda, extending a hand for her to shake. She grabs his hand in return. “Great.”

Zoe interrupts the exchange. “Would you mind getting me a drink, Steve?”

“Anything special?”

Zoe gives him a tense smile. “Surprise me.”

As Steve heads to the kitchen, Brock comes up to Zoe wrapping his arm around her waist. She giggles as he picks her up and carries her off— just as Steve returns, a beer— complete with a napkin and straw— in his hand.

Wanda glares with a jealous fury after Zoe and Brock, then gives Steve the once-over and walks away, frustration evident on both their faces. 

Sam appears next to Steve. “Extremely unfortunate maneuver.”

Steve huffs in lingering frustration. “The hell is that? What kind of guy just picks up a girl and carries her away while you're talking to her?”

“Assholes, like that. But hey, you're making progress.” Sam responds.

“No, I'm not.” Steve smacks himself in the head. “She used me! She wants to go out with Rumlow. Not me. I'm an idiot!”

Sam pats him on the shoulder. “At least you're self-aware.”

You stand in a drunken group of college kids. A man in a cowboy hat sings in your ear. You shout the lyrics as loud as you can. You’re holding another shot glass and your eyes meet Bucky’s from across the room. A small smile meets his eyes before he looks away.

Zoe stands next to Brock, sipping from her beer explaining all of his upcoming modeling gigs. She tries to appear impressed, but it's getting difficult. “Neat…” her eyes travel from across the room, searching to find something else to occupy her.

Brock continues, completely oblivious. “My agent says I've got a good shot at being the Prada guy next year.”

He looks over her shoulder and waves at someone. Zoe takes the opportunity to escape. “I'll be right back.”

Zoe finds herself in the bathroom with Wanda, she shuts the door, leaning on it with a sigh. Wanda applies lip-gloss in the mirror. Zoe begins talking about her encounter with Brock. “He practically proposed when he found out we had the same dermatologist. I mean. Dr. Strange is great and all, but he's not exactly relevant to party conversation.”

Wanda raises her eyebrows, “is he oily or dry?”

Zoe huffs, rolling her eyes. “Combination. I don't know— I thought he'd be different. More of a gentleman.”

Wanda rolls her eyes, “Zoe, I don't think the highlights of dating Brock Rumlow are going to include door-opening and coat-holding.”

“Sometimes I wonder if the guys we're supposed to want to go out with are the ones we actually want to go out with, you know?”

“All I know is— I'd give up my private line to go out with a guy like Brock.”

The two girls are interrupted by a sudden knock on the door. You barge in, completely wasted. Your vision is cloudy, and your feet feel like you’re walking on a tightrope.

“Zoe, I need to talk to you— I need to tell you—”

Your sister cuts you off. “I really don't think I need any social advice from you right now.” A look of disgust lingers on her face.

Zoe grabs Wanda's arm and they exit the bathroom.

You look at the bathtub, then yourself in the mirror. A stupid smile spreads across your face as you take off your top, the door still wide open. Bucky is walking by, searching for you when he sees you beginning to unbutton your pants. He rushes in, closing the door and grabbing your hands. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t be doing that.”

You huff out in annoyance, a bath seemed really nice right now. You see a shot glass on the counter, your hands going to take it. Bucky immediately grabs it front our hands, pouring it down the sink.

“I wanted another one.”

Bucky grabs your hand, leading you out of the bathroom, at some point your hand gets separated from his and you're found standing in a group of dancing party-goers. When your short search for Bucky proves fruitless, someone grabs your hips. Swaying your hips back and forth. You find yourself lost in the music, closing your eyes and swaying to the beat.

Brock grabs Bucky, pulling him farther away from you. 

“My man,” he places his arm around Bucky. “A deal's a deal.” He grabs his phone, sending Bucky the money. Brock watches as you let loose in a crowd, smiling.

“How'd you do it?”

Bucky takes his hand to remove Brock’s arm from his shoulder. “Do what?”

Brock continues staring at you. “Get her to act like a human.”

You take a moment, jumping onto the nearest table, dancing by yourself. Your hair is now loose, flying about. Others form a crowd, clapping and cheering you on.

You swing your head around banging it on a low hanging light. You start to sway, then go down as Bucky rushes over to catch you. His arms cradle you close to his chest. The others around you clap, thinking this is a wonderful finale. 

Bucky sets you down on your feet, holding you up. You find yourself giggling at the contrasting touches of his hands— one flesh, one metal.

He centers you. “Okay?”

You try extra hard to focus, unable to even finish your sentence without stumbling back into his arms. “I'm fine. I'm-”

Bucky huffs out a breath, the air blowing across your face by how close you stand. “You're not okay.”

“I just need to lie down for awhile.” You begin buckling your knees, wanting to sit on the floor.

You find a spot on the floor, Bucky drags you back to standing once again.

You look up at him incredulously. “I know, just let me sleep”

“What if you have a concussion? My dog went to sleep with a concussion and woke up a vegetable. Not that I could tell the difference…”

You drop your body to the floor again. “Okay, I'll just sleep but stay awake, okay?”

He pulls you back to himself. “C'mon, let's walk.”

Out of the house, your feet dragging behind him as he holds your hand. Your mind is elsewhere, completely oblivious to anything he’s telling you. You find watching the other drunk party-goers quite fascinating at the moment. Steve grabs Bucky’s arm, pulling him away from you.

“We need to talk.”

Bucky looks at you before he speaks. “Steve, I'm a little busy”

Steve is red in the face, noticeably angry. “It's off. The whole thing.”

You slide down to the floor and Bucky struggles to get you back on your feet. Bucky gives Steve a pointed look, irritated at the interruption. 

Steve continues, “She's partial to Brock, not me.”

Bucky doesn't have time for this, he’s trying to watch over a very intoxicated you. “Steve, do you like the girl?”

“Sure.” Steve shrugs, looking away.

“Then, go get her.”

Bucky continues walking an oblivious you outside. Steve stands there, unsure how to make use of this advice.

Bucky and you finally make it out to the yard. He’s trying his best to hold you up.

You huff in annoyance as his excessive manhandling. “This is so patronizing.”

He smiles at you, a curious look across his face. “Leave it to you to use big words when you're shitfaced.”

You look at him, noticing how beautiful his eyes are before you snap yourself back to reality. “Why're you doing this?”

“I told you already.”

You shrug, looking away from him. “You don't care if I die.”

He returns a quizzical look to you. “Sure, I do.”

“Why?”

He smiles. “Because then I'd have to start taking out girls who actually like me.”

You laugh. “Like you could find one.”

He returns you laughter, “see that? Who needs affection when I've got blind hatred?”

You stop laughing, your face returning to your usual scowl. “Just let me sit down.”

He walks you over to the swingset and plops you down in a swing, moving your hands to hang onto the chains.

“How's that?”

You sit and look at him for a moment with a smile. He’s been so nice to you, and you’re suspicious but right now you’re kind of enjoying his affection for you. Your eyes rake over his body, drawing back up to his face. He is rather handsome. You find yourself leaning too far backward, falling over.

“Jesus. You're like a weeble.”

Bucky rushes to right you, then starts pushing you on the swing to keep you entertained and distracted.

“Why'd you let him get to you?”

You raise your brows at him, confused. “Who?”

He pauses swinging you, pulling the swing so your face is close to his. “Rumlow.”

“I hate him.” You look away from him, feigning indifference.

“I know. It'd have to be a pretty big deal to get you to mainline tequila. You don't seem like the type.”

Your voice comes out, laced with sarcasm and mockery. “What? You don’t think I can hang with the cool kids.”

“I thought you were above all that.”

You smile, albeit goofy. “You know what they say.”

His hand draws your chin to look at him. “No. What do they say?”

An overwhelming sensation of tiredness sweeps over you, you rest your head against the chains of the swing. Your eyes drooping closed. 

“Shit!”

He drags you to your feet and starts singing loudly. “Jingle Bells! Jingle Belles! Wake up damn it!”

He sits you back down, trying to wake you up. He begins shaking you like a ragdoll.

“Y/N! Wake up!”

You wake up, furrowing your brow. “What?”

He sighs with relief. “I thought you were…” His sentence dies off as he stares into your eyes. A sense of admiration fills him.

Both of your eyes glance down at each other’s lips, leaning forward. Neither of you say a word to each other. 

Your stomach decides to take the silence as a time to start churning. The contents of the night spew out of you onto Bucky’s shoes. 

**———**

After finding your way back inside the party to wash out your mouth and clean Bucky’s shoes, and a not so delightful conversation with your sister you begin fumbling your way back to your car. Bucky is not in sight as you ditched him on your way to the bathroom,

You sit in the driver's seat with the window down when suddenly Bucky leans in and takes the keys out of the ignition.

“Cute.”

**———**

Students loiter on the lawn. Zoe and Wanda walk outside. Brock catches up to them. 

“A bunch of us are going to Ross’s house. Wanna come?”

Wanda looks at Zoe, who wears a pained expression. She looks at her phone to check the time. “I have to be home in twenty minutes.”

Wanda sees the invitation, perking up immediately to accept. “I don't have a curfew!”

Brock smirks at the red-head. “Then, c'mon.”

He looks to Zoe, shrugging his shoulders. “Maybe next time.”

They head back into the party, leaving an astonished Zoe alone outside. Steve exits the party and stops when he sees her. 

He stands next to her, his tone of voice accusatory. “Have fun tonight?”

Zoe sighs, “tons.”

He starts to walk on. She interrupts him, seeming timid and demure. “Steve?”

He stops. She gives him a helpless smile.

“Do you think you could give me a ride?”

**———meanwhile**

Bucky drives as you sit in the passenger seat, fiddling with the radio dial. You find a song you’re happy with, but Bucky quickly changes it.

“I'm driving, so I get to pick the tunes.”

You change it back to your song. “It's my car.”

He changes it back. “And I'm in control of it.”

“But it's Girl in Red— I know you like them. I saw you there.”

Bucky doesn't have an answer for this, so he lets you listen to the song. After the song finishes you turn the volume down. 

Your eyes find the shining silver of his metal arm, following the lines along the plates at his fingers. Inebriated you isn’t aware of social cues. But you’re still hesitant when you begin speaking. 

“What happened to your arm?“

“Accident.” Bucky’s response is short. 

You watch him, his jaw tightens slightly. “People say you killed people.”

“Maybe.” He shrugs his shoulder, smirking. 

You furrow your brows, looking out the window. “No, you didn’t.”

“Then why'd you ask?”

“Why'd you lie?”

He doesn't answer, but instead, frowns and turns up the music. You bob your head drunkenly.

“I should do this.” You say, a little too loud for the close proximity. 

“Do what?” He’s raising an eyebrow at you, curiously. 

You point to the radio. “This.”

“Start a band?”

You laugh, still speaking a little too loud. “My father wouldn't approve of that.”

“You don't strike me as the type that would ask permission.”

You turn to look at him, your voice catching a slight defensive tone. “Oh, so now you think you know me?”

He doesn’t take your jab personally, he smiles at you while nodding his head. “I'm gettin' there.”

Your voice loses it's venom. “The only thing people know about me is that I'm ‘scary’.”

He turns to look at you— you look anything but scary right now. He tries to hide his smile.

“Yeah— well, I'm no picnic myself.”

You eye each other, sharing a moment of connection, realizing you’ve both created the same exterior for yourselves.

Bucky pulls into the lot in front of your apartment and shuts off the motor. He looks up at your place.

“So, what 's up with the whole not dating thing?”

“My dad.”

“But you’re an adult.”

You nod your head. “Dad cuts us off if we step out of line.”

“He seems like an ass.”

You nod your head again in agreement. “He just wants me to be someone I'm not.”

“Who?”

“Zoe.”

“No offense, but your sister is without. I know everyone likes her and all, but…”

You stare at him with new admiration.

“You know— you're not as vile as I thought you were.”

You lean over to his seat, drunkenly toward him.

Your eyes darting between his plush pink lips and his blue eyes. He leans forward, admiring you. Before your lips can meet he turns away, looking out the window. 

Bucky is the first to break the tension. “So, I'll see you in class.”

You stare at him, pissed. Your hand reaches for the handle, slamming it shut behind you as you walk out up to your apartment.

**———meanwhile**

Zoe and Steve ride in silence. He finally breaks it.

“I looked for you back at the party, but you always seemed to be occupied.”

Zoe feigns innocence, “I was?”

Steve huffs in frustration. “You never wanted to go out with me, did you?”

Zoe bites her lip, reluctantly speaking. “Well, no...

Steve’s voice is stern, leaving no room for kindness. “Then that's all you had to say.”

They sit in silence for a moment, Zoe thinking over things. 

“But-“

He cuts her off, “You always been this selfish?”

Zoe thinks a minute again. Trying to find the right words to confess her feelings. 

He pulls up in front of the house

“Just because you're beautiful, doesn't mean you can treat people like they don't matter.”

She looks at him for a moment— then grabs his face and gives him a kiss on the lips. He draws back in surprise, then kisses her back. She smiles, then gets out of the car, without another word.

Driving away, Steve grins. “And I'm back in the saddle.”


	5. Grand Gestures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there be smut ahead

**_\------the following Monday_ **

You walk past Bucky, the sun shining down on you as you ignore him. You’re still fuming over his rejection. You didn’t understand it, one minute he is being sweet and caring then the next he’s brash and cold. Just when you find yourself opening up your walls, thinking he wants the same, he shuts you down. Rejection is never fun.

As you walk up the doors to the building you hear the irritating voice of none other than Brock fucking Rumlow. 

“She gets laid and she’s still a wench! Damn, Bucky you must not have made the girl happy enough.”

_ Disgusting. _ That’s what men are, why you still entertain the idea of being attracted to stupid men, with stupid soft brown hair, and striking blue eyes when women exist? Stupid, fucking pretty boy Bucky Barnes.

**_\------during lunch that day_ **

You and Natasha scrape the peanuts out of their sauce at your favorite thai place near campus.

Nat breaks up the monotony of the day. “You went to the party? I thought we were officially opposed to social activity.” 

You huff in frustration. “I didn't have a choice.”

Well, technically you did, but you decided to take a chance. It backfired.

“You didn't have a choice? Where's Y/N and what have you done with her?”

You lookup at Nat, taking a break from eating. I did Zoe a favor and it backfired.”

The redhead sighs, “You didn't.”

“I got drunk. I puked. I got rejected. It was  _ super _ fun.”

Just as you finish your sentence, the devil himself walks into the diner. The bell chiming signaling his arrival. You duck your head down, trying to hide yourself but he’s already seen you. Walking over you pretend to be lost in your food, praying he ignores you.

He doesn’t.

“Hey.”

You look up to see a soft smile on his lips and panicking you gather your things and bolt out the door. Bucky looks at Natasha with a questioning gaze, who shrugs and follows your trail.

**_\------that night at a bar_ **

“So you got cozy with she who stings?” Sam questions Bucky.

The trio of men gather around a table, sipping on beers and spilling the tea on the latest gossip surrounding your dry love life.

Bucky sighs in frustration. “No-- I've got a sweet-payin’ job that I'm about to lose.”

Steve slams his beer down, jolting their attention to him. “What'd you do to her?”

Bucky twists his fingers in his lap in more frustration. “I don't know,” a beat, “I decided not to nail her when she was too drunk to remember it.”

Sam and Steve look at each other in realization, then turn back to Bucky.

Steve is the first to voice his concern. “You realize this puts the whole operation in peril.”

“No shit. She won't even look at me.”

Steve shakes his head, furrowing his brows. “Why can't you just tell her you're sorry?”

Bucky's expression says that this is not a possibility. Sam makes a time out sign with his hands.

“I'm on it.”

Sam pulls out his phone dialing someone’s number while the other two men stare at him in confusion. 

The conversation is one sided, only able to hear what Sam says into the phone.

“Hey there.”

Silence.

“ _ Oh _ yeah.” Sam over exaggerates the ‘oh’.

Sam thinks for a minute. As the other person speaks. “Macbeth, right?”

More silence as Bucky pounds his beer.

“Y/N a fan, too?”

Steve and Bucky both perk up, waiting for the response.

“So, listen... I have this friend… and you owe me still.”

Sam hangs up the phone, smiling conspiratorially at Bucky. 

After explaining the plan with Bucky and Steve and much disdain and expletives muttered from Bucky, Steve voices his concern. ”She hates you with the fire of a thousand suns. That's a direct quote.”

“Relax, it will work. Bucky just needs a grand gesture.”

**\------the following day**

Wanda rounds the corner and bends down to get a drink from the water fountain while in between classes. Nearby, Brock stands talking to two of his minions. The guys don't see her.

“Don't talk to me about the sweetest date. That little halo Zoe is gonna be prone and proven  _ after _ our date. Six virgins in a row.”

The cohorts chortle Wanda keeps drinking from the fountain, eavesdropping on the conversation not meant for her ears.

**\------that evening**

Bucky lounges on his bed. Texting his least favorite person.

Bucky does, with a smile at the hefty amount now sitting in his account.

**\------that same evening at Wanda’s apartment**

Zoe and Wanda sit on the floor of Wanda’s bedroom painting their nails. A facetime call lights up on Zoe’s phone.

“Hey, sweet cheeks.” Brock’s face comes into view as Zoe settles the phone down so she can continue painting her nails. She pays close attention to making sure each nail is perfect, ignoring Brock by not looking at him as he speaks.

Wanda, although not in frame, watches and listens to the conversation. 

“Hi, Brock.”

“You're concentrating awfully hard.”

Zoe messes up her pinky nail, huffing in frustration as she turns to look at her phone screen. He smiles at her now that he has her undivided attention.

Brock continues. “Listen, I want to talk to you about going on a date, we could go dancing.”

“You know the deal. I can't go if Y/N doesn't go--”

He interrupts her. “Your sister is going on one.”

Zoe looks at him, surprised. “Since when?”

He smirks at her. “I'm taking care of it.”

Wanda looks over from her spot on the floor, but keeps her lips firmly shut.

**\------the next day**

Your favorite bookstore. Its rows and rows of gently used books line the shelves. It’s really not as much of a bookstore as it is a store with everything. In one corner there’s a bunch of clothes, all vintage and old. The other side has pins and buttons. You could make a list of everything this store has, and it would at least be 6 pages long. But you find yourself in your favorite part, the feminist lit section.

Bucky appears, through a hole in the books you’re siphoning through. His Brooklyn drawl breaks you out of your focus. “Excuse me, have you seen The Feminine Mystique? I lost my copy.”

You frown. “What are you doing here?”

He smiles, walking around to the other side to stand by you. “I heard there was a poetry reading.”

You roll your eyes. “You're so--”

He interrupts. “Pleasant?”

You stare at him, deadpan.

Bucky continues. “Wholesome.”

“Unwelcome.” You smile. 

He admonishes you, mocking you. “Unwelcome? I guess someone still has her panties in a twist.”

You screech at him, mouth hanging open. “Don't for one minute think that you had any effect whatsoever on my panties!”

“So what did I have an effect on?”

“Other than my upchuck reflex? Nothing.”

You push past him in a fit of fury and head out the door. Bucky looks down at the book he's been holding in his hand:  _ Taming of the Shrew. _

His attempt failed. Unable to break you once again, he huffs to himself watching you walk out. “If I go down. I'm takin' you with me.”

**_\------the next day in Mr. Rhodes’ class_ **

You and the other students sit at their desks, taking a quiz. Bucky's seat is conspicuously empty. From outside, you hear the soft, unsure beginnings of a song. You look up, then out the window from your seat, completely mortified.

The song grows louder until you realize it's Clairo’s “Sofia” being sung by none other than Bucky.

_ “I think we could do it if we tried _

_ If only to say, you’re mine _

_ Y/N know that you and I _

_ Shouldn’t feel like a crime.” _

The other students rush to the window. Outside, Bucky stands beneath the window, crooning with a circle of students around him. You lower in your seat in humiliation as he makes quite a sarcastic show of it.

_ “You know I’ll do anything you ask me to _

_ But oh my god I think I’m in love with you” _

You slowly walk to the window, peeking below, the curiosity getting the better of you. Bucky smiles at you as he finishes the verse with a big finale.

_ “Standing here alone now _

_ Think that we can drive around _

_ I just want to say _

_ How I love you with your hair down _

_ Baby you don’t got to fight _

_ I’ll be here till the end of time _

_ Wishing that you were mine _

_ Pull you in, it’s alright” _

The other students laugh, clap, and cheer, both inside and outside. A slight blush creeps up your face when you make eye contact with Bucky again, a smile spreading there too.

**_\------that evening_ **

After an unsettling ride on the back of Bucky’s motorcycle the pair of you find yourself skipping class the rest of the day walking through an outdoor arcade nearby. When he offered you his hand getting down off the bike you were hesitant, but now you found yourself still holding it while walking up and down the rows of games.

“Let me guess… you saw the Tik Tok where you put your phone under the pillow while listening to that song?”

He smiles, squeezing your hand. “I figured it had to be something ridiculous to win your respect. And piss you off.”

“Good call.”

You see a particularly interesting game, abandoning Bucky’s side and running over to it. You stop and pick up a toy gun that shoots water at giggling hyenas and wails on it. The barker hands you a stuffed animal, a dolphin, as your prize. You see a little girl next to you, unable to hit any of the targets. You bent down to her level handing it to her.

You return to Bucky’s side, grabbing his hand and continuing your walk.

Bucky regards you sarcastically, “A soft side? Who knew?”

You smile at his profile. “Yeah, well, don't let it get out.”

He pauses before speaking again. “So what's your excuse?”

“Acting the way we do?” You raise a brow.

“Yes.”

You stop walking, leaning into his side before turning to face his front. “I don't like to do what people expect. Then they expect it all the time and they get disappointed when you change.”

He leans in closer to you, his hands finding your hips. “So if you disappoint them from the start, you're covered?”

You shrug, looking away. A blush covering your face from the proximity and his heat. “Something like that.”

He chuckles at you, his hand coming up to turn your chin to him. “Then you screwed up.”

You stare at his lips, flicking back up to his eyes. “How?”

He leans in, his lips inches away from yours, whispering. “You never disappointed me.”

You blush under his gaze even more, intent to lean and let your lips meet. To your dismay he draws back, smirking at you. “You up for it?”

Your mind is fuddled in a daze of the almost kiss. “For…?”

He motions to the sign for a paint-ball game. You grin, nodding your head and racing over to the booth.

Once in gear and out on the course, the two of you creep through the paint-ball course, stealthy and full of the desire to best the other. Bucky nails you in the back with a big glob of red paint. You get him in the chest with a glob of blue. He returns fire with a big yellow splat to the side of your face. You squirt a green shot to his forehead. 

After several more hidings and stealthy shots. You take aim, ready to shoot him again, only to find that your gun is empty. ”Damn it!”

Bucky spots you, sprinting over to you. Your eyes widen when you see him barreling toward you, but your reaction is too slow. He grabs you in a victorious tackle, landing on the ground and laughing together.

The laughing subsides, Bucky still straddling your legs, pinning you beneath him. His hand comes up, wiping away the blue paint from your lips.

His face comes down, closer to yours and finally your lips meet. The adrenaline of the match coming to head, pooling into waves of desire between you as his lips clash with yours.

His grip on your wrist loosens, allowing your hands to roam. They grip his cheeks, the stubble along his jaw itching your palms and fingertips. His soft pillowy lips continue devouring yours, your mouths opening to let your tongues meet as a familiar pool of heat swells in your core. 

You can feel his hardening length press into your thigh, sending you reeling with lust. Your hands rake through his hair, keeping him close to you as his hands grab your face to keep you interlocked.

A siren signaling the end of the match makes you jolt, making the both of you start laughing against each other’s mouths. You breath out heavily against his mouth, “do you want to get out of here?”

**\------**

Bucky pulls up to your apartment lot. Your clothes are dried and sticky with paint, looking like refugees from a strange--yet colorful-- war.

Once inside the apartment you look at Bucky silently giggling to yourself at his disheveled appearance. He sees you laughing at him and stalks toward you grabbing your face planting a needy kiss to your mouth.

Between kisses you speak “I’ll wash your clothes-” Kiss. “You need to shower-” kiss.

He hums against your mouth, relishing in your taste. “Hmm, you need to shower too, doll.”

Bucky picks you up, his hands gripping your thighs so your legs straddle his waist as he makes he way through the apartment, his lips kissing along the planes of your neck and throat, lavishing at the skin. 

You giggle softly, “second door, on the right.”

Bucky closes the door behind him setting you down on the counter of the sink as he takes his paint covered clothes off, his eyes watching yours. You stand, matching his pace but falter when you see him take his shirt off.

He stands in his boxers, your eyes rake over the scarred tissue where metal meets flesh. The normal cocky Bucky is replaced with nervous jitters, his insecurities getting the better of him. You turn away, turning on the shower and when you’re back around he just watches you from the other side.

You walk slowly to him, removing the final pieces of your paint covered wardrobe as you stand in front of him, completely nude.

Your hand comes up to his shoulder. Your eyes catch his. “May I?” 

He nods, letting your hand trace the appendage, following across his pectoral where the scarring meets at his shoulder. You lean forward, placing a kiss between the metal and flash, trailing a path up his neck while standing on your tiptoes. Your hands come up to caress his face, letting him and you both melt into the kiss.

His hands find the band of his boxers, dragging them down and he kicks his feet to get them off the rest of the way, never breaking the kiss.

Finally, you’re both inside the shower. The water soaks your skin and hair, it’s warmth relaxing your body washing away the paint. Bucky’s hands rarely leave your body once inside, his hardness is pressed against your backside. He pulls your hair to the side, whispering in your ear. “Get on your knees.”

You can’t help the heat and wetness that pools between your thighs at his words. “Excuse me?” 

He laughs at your flustered words. “I’m going to wash your hair.”

Bucky’s hands push down on your shoulders, letting your knees go down. He washes and gently massages the paint out of your hair. It’s so relaxing you nearly fall asleep at his touch.

Standing you up he takes your soap, scrubbing and massaging your skin causing you to let out a moan at the contrast between the metal texture and his skin palming your body. His hands spend extra time around your breasts and ass, caressign the skin there and leaving trails of kisses and hickeys. You find yourself in complete and utter bliss.

His hands find your thighs, as he gets on his knees, looking up at you asking for permission. You nod your head in anticipation. His hand finds the back side of your knee, hitching it over his shoulder making you fall against the wall but maintaining an upright position.

He breathes hot hair over your core causing a whine to slip out from you. Finally his mouth meets your slit, running a thick strip from bottom to top and relishing in a gentle suck on your clitoris.

He moans at the taste, the vibrations sending you further into blissful territory. He pulls back, kisses alternate between your inner thighs. You let out a sigh, begging for him to return his attention back to the apex. “Bucky, please.”

He returns his attention back to your core at your request. Leaving kisses and licks around your clit, his fingers come up, slipping one into your entrance. Your knees buckle slightly, causing your core to push farther into his face when you realize it. He’s using the metal ones. 

“Oh, fuck.” 

His finger pumps in and out of you as your head leans back against the wall. He looks up between your legs. “Look at me.”

And you do. It’s a glorious sight seeing him. His baby blues catching your eyes as his mouth meets your clit, sucking on it. It sends a wave of pleasure through your body. He pulls back off and you whine at the loss. “Can you take another one doll?” 

You nod your head at him, watching him smirk. The whine lost on your lips from before quickly morphs into a moan when another digit enters your cunt. Sinking into him even more when he buries his face back into your center.

“Shit, Buck- I-”

The pleasure builds in you, tingles begin erupting in your gut when he starts curling his fingers against your soft spot inside you.

A series of whines and licks later and you find yourself careening into the abyss of stars erupting around your vision. You grind your hips into his face, trying to make it last longer.

He pulls out standing up and catching you at the waist as your legs threaten to give out in the aftershocks of your orgasm. He smiles down at you, keeping your waist pinned to the wall. His lips meet yours, making you taste yourself on him.

Your hand travels down from his chest, finding his length, hard and aching. Your hand travels up and down it, pumping his shaft as he thrusts his hips into your hand. He moans into the kiss, leaving you welling with pride.

He whispers into your lips, “fuck doll, just like that.” 

Your hand picks up the pace as he thrusts into it, grunting and groaning as you start to lavish kisses and bites along his jaw and neck. Leaving behind a particular harsh lovebite. 

Several pumps and thrusts later he comes against your thigh, biting hard on your lower lip as he rides out his own orgasm until his hips still and his length begins softening in your hand.

**\------**

After the shower, and changing into a fresh set of clothes. Of course, you're giggling at Bucky draped in your robe. You find yourself sitting on the couch, Bucky’s arm around you. You’re tracing the lines of the metal in his hand.

“State trooper?”

He chuckles, kissing you on your temple. “Fallacy.”

You hide a soft smile. “The duck?”

“Hearsay.”

“I know the porn career's a lie… but after um- well experiencing  _ that _ I do have doubts.”

He turns to you, kissing your neck as he speaks. “Do you?”

You sigh into his touch, giggling softly. “Tell me something true.”

“I hate peas.”

“No-- something  _ real _ . Something _ no one  _ else knows.”

In between kisses he speaks into your skin. “You're sweet. And sexy. And completely hot for me.”

You pull his face from your neck, cradling his face. “What?”

He smiles at you, looking over your face. “No one else knows.”

“You're amazingly self-assured. Has anyone ever told you that?” 

You let go of his face, but he doesn’t go far. “Go on a date with me.”

Your smile falters. “Is that a request or a command?”

He furrows his brows, rolling his eyes at you. “You know what I mean, doll.”

You look away from him, feeling insecure under his gaze. “Well isn’t that what we did today?”

He pulls back from you, his arm falling into his own lap. “No, a  _ real _ one. Like with dancing, you in a pretty dress. I bring you flowers, the whole thing.”

_Real one?_ _What the hell?_ Your mind reels with his lack of awareness. You were under the impression you were currently _on_ a date, but he didn’t see it as such. _So, was none of this real?_

You cross your arms, anger settling in you. “No, I won't go with you.”

Confusion lances across his face. “Why not?”

You shrug your shoulders, trying to keep a cold facade. “Because I don't want to.”

Bucky sits quietly, torn. He can't very well tell you he is being paid to take you out… “People won't expect you to go…”

You turn to him, getting angry. “Why are you doing this?”

He doesn’t respond, just stares at you.

“All of it-- what's in it for you?” You interrupt the silence.

He sits silently, not looking at you, only confirming your suspicions. You continue, unable to keep your mouth shut. “Create a little drama? Start a new rumor? What?”

He shakes his head, almost comically laughing at you. “So I have to have a motive to be with you?”

Your voice is stern, unwavering. “You tell me.”

He stands up, walking away from you toward the laundry machines. “You need therapy. Has anyone ever told you that?”

You stand following him, but your voice is soft and quiet. ”Answer the question, Bucky.”

Bucky whirls around at you, his face red in anger. ”Nothing! There's nothing in it for me. Just the pleasure of your company.”

He takes out his clothes from the dryer. Putting them on before he storms out of your apartment. You watch him go out the door fuming in your spot.

You storm over to the window, and watch as he takes a cigarette, lighting it as he peels out of the parking lot.


End file.
